


Anything

by SerpentineJ



Category: Galavant (TV)
Genre: M/M, Richavant - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:57:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3465125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Person A is being held hostage in a fortress and Person B violently leaving a mess of carnage in their wake to get to them. Covered in blood and questionable pieces of enemy remains, Person B finally makes it to Person A in the center of the wreckage and gives them a gentle peck on the forehead before apologizing for the wait.” Richavant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: So, Richavant fic! Even though I should be finishing a spot of homework and am feeling a little under the weather, this prompt popped up on my dash and I couldn’t help myself.
> 
> Also, does Omundson really have a pierced ear? (If so, that’s awesome.) Or is it a prop? B/c clip-ons are really annoying- moreso than actual earrings. (Either way, it brings up a lot of ideas for punk!Lassie. ;)
> 
> Final thing: This prompt is basically the entire premise of Black Butler. Just saying.

King Richard was a ponce.

There was no polite way of putting it; he was soft, ridiculously silly, childish demeanor completely at odds with his nearly regal silver-streaked hair and the firm, straight-backed posture.  
And as such, he had no idea how to defend himself. 

~~~~~~

The torchlight flickered off the stone walls of Richard’s castle, highlighting the tall columns and high ceilings of the hall, illuminating Galavant’s striking features.

He leaned back in his desk chair, stretching his stiff back and flexing his fingers, sighing and looking out the window. Standing up, he grabbed his coat off its hanger and shrugged it on; if he wasn’t going to get any work done, he might as well take a walk. Get some fresh air, maybe visit the horses.  
The man closed the door to his chambers silently, not wanting to wake any of the other inhabitants of the castle, and made his way down the corridor.

He paused.

Richard’s door was open.

Well, he thought, frowning and settling into a defensive position, drawing his sword and creeping towards the doorframe, that couldn’t be good.

~~~~~~

He was right.

The window was open, chiffon curtain waving in the wind, the candle on the desk wavering in the breeze and casting an ominous light over the mess on the floor.

The nightstand was knocked over, oil lamp shattered on the stone tile, various books and papers strewn over the plush maroon rug (“But it’s so soft!” Richard had exclaimed, face lighting up in an innocent glee,) bedcovers rumpled and a knife stuck in the writing desk-

Wait, a knife?

“Goddamnit.” Galavant cursed, sheathing his blade and striding over to the table.

He yanked the dagger out of the wood, releasing the note it had been holding pinned down.

_If you want to see the King Richard again, leave 25,000 gold pieces beneath the largest oak tree by the Backwater Bridge when the hooting of the owls wakens the night lynx to begin its hunting._

“So, like, nine o’clock.” He muttered, scanning the sheet of parchment for any clues as to the kidnappers’ identities. The hint came in the form of a leaf pressed under a muddy footprint made by a large boot on the tile; a leaf from a tree that only grew around the royal palace of a neighboring kingdom.

The knight felt a grimace start to creep up his lips.

~~~~~~

“Alright, men!” Galavant shouted, banging on the table before him. “The King has been kidnapped, and as his royal guard, we will retrieve him.”

He had fallen into the role of leader of the King’s Guard quite easily after the news came in that Gareth had appointed him such in his absence; turns out, it was actually a relatively simple job: make sure the King doesn’t get himself killed.

And deal with situations like this.

~~~~~~

He cut down the last guard, panting, shoulders heaving, and gestured for the battering ram to knock the double doors open. 

“Come on!” Galavant strode forwards as the log finally crashed through the doors, leading the brigade through and into the foyer of the castle. “Search the castle for the King.”

~~~~~~

It felt as though they had been fighting for hours, hacking down the opposition, knocking them out or slicing them apart, and by the time Galavant had reached the lower dungeons he was bloodstained and breathless and probably looked more than a little manic. The damp stone and dark corners, black bars and blacker chains, gleamed ominously in the flickering torchlight, making the knight frown in determination. Richard had to be down here somewhere.

“King?” He shouted, hearing it echo emptily back to him. “Richard?”

There was no response, so he yanked a torch out of its bracket on the wall and pushing further into the darkness of the dungeon, feeling the blood and sweat and grime plastered on his skin begin to chill in the stale underground air.

Galavant tried again. “Richard!”

“Wh-what?” A thin reply sounded from behind a door on the far side of the room. “Galavant?”

The knight exhaled in… relief? And rushed to the cell, snatching the keys off a hook on the wall and unlocking the door. He sheathed his sword and fumbled for the one for the manacles chaining the king to the bench, unlocking them and watching as the other frowned and rubbed his wrists.

“Well, it took you long enough.” Richard huffed, purposefully not looking at him. Galavant felt his mouth twitch upwards in a smile; he knew that, if he raised the might a little higher, he would see a red tinge staining the tips of the king’s ears, reddening his cheeks.

He bowed, dropping a small, dry kiss on the other’s forehead, and said, still smirking, ”I apologize for the wait, my king.”

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: Also, does anyone else think Isabella’s dad is hilarious, with all the sarcasm? 
> 
> Hey, y’know, comments make me write more… and grin giddily like a ten-year-old schoolgirl…


End file.
